


Play Pretend

by ettieeggyo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Internalised Homophobia, M/M, and References to F Slur, despite what this fic may tell you, my stranger things otp is Will/some bloody peace and quiet and D&D and happiness, warnings for:, yeah... this is why I shouldn’t write at like 2am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettieeggyo/pseuds/ettieeggyo
Summary: When they played pretend together, they were inseparable. That was what they called them.





	Play Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this at 2am whilst emotional and not thinking straight (ha!).

Will likes to swap himself out for El. To pretend that when Mike comes to visit, that it’s to visit him. At night, when Mike heads home with sorrow in his stead and head buried low, Will pretends that it’s because of him. Because Mike was his friend before all of the mess, remember? And all they ever did was play pretend.

Mike kisses El as if he’d lose her, yes. But he also kisses her as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. As if he’s just a guy in love who doesn’t know how to translate it into actuality. Will pictures sloppy, mismatched affection. Fumbling hands that reach for the cheek, the back of the head, the hair, the neck - fully unsure of where to go. Affection that says how do I show how much I love you? Will likes to swap himself and El.

- _ag, Joyce, that’s what he is! A fucking f_ -

Will knows. Will knows what goes on inside Mike’s head, because he’s always known. Mike is Mike. Mike is eternally confused, yet determined to find out the answers until the tangled knot of his head becomes a fine thread. Mike is mint chocolate chip ice cream over strawberry, bravery over wisdom, doing little over nothing. Mike is roaring down suburban streets at high speed, whooping, hollering and wishing that it was some sort of motor, instead.

El calls him on the phone at midnight and Will can hear it. It’s gross, it’s disgusting, it’s sickly sweet as a melted popsicle on fingertips. It should have been with him.

- _ault that you’re not interested in girls_ -

Everytime Will comes over they play D&D. They play it out of obligation, he knows. Even if it doesn’t show, he knows Mike, Lucas and Dustin all do it for him. Mike’s smile turned to pity over the years - it turned to soft, sincere yet scarring pity. It used to be so easy. Will used to be Will. Now Will was trauma, does he have schizophrenia and we better make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

Mike and Will used to be the inseparable duo. Moms talking over coffee at lunchtime about how fast they grow, and won’t it be wonderful when they go off to college? Will was going to be an artist, a musician, a doctor - whatever his little heart desired. Lonnie would scoff over the top of a beer bottle. Mike, well, he ought to follow in his father’s footsteps, perhaps - a lawyer, or an accountant. Something reliable. Will always could rely on Mike, and he always wanted to.

- _so he’s gone off to the fairyland, yeah? With all the other f_ -

Inseparable. That was what they were. That was what they were supposed to be. They were supposed to grow up next to each other, writing their heights in chalky lines on a doorframe and playing a long competition. They were supposed to be tossing beer into trash can goalposts, having a greater time than they ever could at some loud, busy frat party in college. Who needed that if they were together? Will was supposed to lean in close to his shoulder, smelling like cheap beer bought in bulk and a cologne that probably cost less than five dollars. Will was supposed to say no words at all, and Mike would understand completely and utterly what he meant as he leaned in to meet him halfway.

- _I love her and I can’t lose her again!_ -

Can’t lose her? What about can’t lose him? What about the memories Will had, of Mike sitting tirelessly by his bedside as he lay ill, irises so outlined with red it was as if a permanent marker had done it? Were those nothing?

“Of course I love you, Will.” Mike rolled his eyes, in what should have been a sincere moment. A moment with as much fireworks as the 4th of July. But it was stale. Will pretends the fireworks are there, and desperately denies the reason why. “You know that, right?”

Will smiled, small and quiet. He pictured how El would be gone five minutes and Mike would wonder where she was. How Mike called her every morning and night because that’s what good boyfriends do, right? He pictured meaningless “I love you”s tossed between every kiss, every smile, every song sung at breakfast, that somehow carried an inconceivably heavy weight. The way Joyce would stare at Mike and Eleven with a far away gaze as she would say with a cheeky and knowing smile, “Inseparable, aren’t they?”

Will likes to play pretend.

“Yeah, yeah.” He dismissed. “I love you too.”

But it hurts to know that there was a time he didn’t have to.


End file.
